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Sing Your Heart Out/Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine: Striking a Sour Note “Last time on Total Drama Island: For Your Entertainment, the contestants were soaked to the bone, which apparently makes them ten times more irritable.” Chris leaned against the door to an unfamiliar dark building, the bright sun overhead heavily contrasting the previous episode’s weather. “Allison recruited a couple teammates to her anti-Avery non-alliance, Victor kept some of his teammates awake with his obnoxious nature, and Isaac and Cara chatted each other up over breakfast. The day quickly took a turn for the worst when I forced the cast to change into their bathing suits and go sailing in the middle of a thunderstorm.” The host let out a cackle. “I couldn’t let a perfectly good storm go to waste, could I? “On the ships, Allison was an awful captain, Elena was rejected by Sebastian again, and Gabe was sentenced to diving in the ice cold ocean, though when Risty helped him back onto the boat he revealed that he might be less shallow than he seems. The Oscars rejected Avery’s many attempts to improve their strategy, so she totally flipped out and took her rage out on innocent Robert. The team planned to vote the drama queen off that night, but Robert threw them an unexpected curveball by quitting the competition.” Chris grimaced. “We're four eliminations in and all eleven of our ladies are still remaining. Will the men be able to rock this upcoming challenge? Find out on this shocking episode of Total … Drama … Island: For Your Entertainment!” CLINK! CLINK! “What did the plates ever do to you?” “It’s not the plates.” CLINK! CLINK! “Then why are you stacking them so violently?” “I’m pretending they’re on fire and I’m piling them on top of your face.” Sebastian didn’t even flinch at the remark. “And when exactly did you start hating me? CLINK! “I don’t hate you.” Donna replied, now out of plates to torture. “I just extremely dislike you, though that has the potential to evolve into hatred.” “Okay, when did you start ‘extremely disliking’ me?” “Day one.” The sharp-tongued brunette stated. “Actually, that’s a lie because I avoided talking to anyone I didn’t have to on the first day. I started disliking you the first time you offered me an alliance. What was that, day three or four?” “Why? It’s not like I pulled a Heather and expected you to obey me.” Sebastian handed her another plate. “I wasn’t expecting a dictatorship, I wanted a partnership.” Donna wiped the dish with a ratty towel. “I knew what you meant, but the answer was still no.” Once the plate was dry, she practically chucked it into the pile of clean dishes. “Now can you wash any faster? I have better things to do than be trapped in the kitchen with you all night.” Dinner used to be a time to relax and bond with teammates, but there had been a huge presence missing since the last elimination … both figuratively and literally. Even though the two teams tended to stay separated, Robert used to interact with everybody as though they were his best friend. He had been the glue that kept his team together and a ray of sunlight to brighten a mundane supper. When The Oscars returned to The Hotel without him, dinner was practically silent, The Emmys also feeling the impact of the unexpected loss. When the meal came to an end, the contestants were hit with the realization that Robert was no longer there to jovially volunteer to clean up when nobody else would. Despite the elimination having occurred two nights ago, the cafeteria cleared out immediately after every meal, The Oscars trying to escape the elephant in the room and The Emmys preferring not to get involved. It became an unspoken rule that the last two people lingering in the cafeteria were stuck with dish duty, which could be rather disgusting depending on the quality of the meal. Towards the end of dinner, Donna had left the cafeteria to retrieve a book that she had left in the confessional, only to return to find that Sebastian was the only contestant that taken the opportunity to flee. Though she normally would have taken a passive stance and completed the chore just to get it over with, she was suffering from another sleepless night thanks to Victor’s snoring and singing, and Sebastian’s presence only worsened her already foul mood. After a few more minutes of scraping the remains of a goopy pasta sauce of questionable flavor from the dishes, Sebastian broke the silence that had overcome the kitchen. “You know, the alliance offer still stands.” Aware that arguing would only prolong the dishwashing, Donna placed a dry glass on the counter and bit back her snappish reply, settling for the much milder, “Why don’t you tell that to Elena?” “Because I can’t stand her.” The smart aleck rolled her eyes. “Oh, and because everybody else finds her so charming.” The card shark snorted. “She’s as charming as a bad case of pneumonia.” “I think I’d rather have pneumonia than have to spend an hour with Elena.” Donna smirked. “But her sparkling personality isn’t a good enough reason for you not to want her in your alliance. You did want me in it, after all.” “Believe it or not, I don’t think you’re awful.” The gambler gave her a million dollar grin as he handed her another glass. “Elena, however, is even vainer than Gabe, never stops talking, somehow has managed to make everyone hate her, and has a rather obvious thing for me. Not to mention she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing.” “You mean she has no idea how to work an alliance?” “No, I mean that she has no idea how to do anything.” “I’m sure she’s good at something … other than running her mouth, that is.” “I wouldn’t exactly consider hair brushing or being overtly forward to be useful skills.” “So the rich girl has a crush on a guy that Daddy didn’t buy for her. Welcome to one of the overused plotlines of reality television.” Donna shrugged nonchalantly. “Is her attraction to you really a bad thing? I thought that was the reputation you were going for?” Sebastian curled his upper lip and handed her a pan. “I’m not interested in a girl like her.” “So vote her off. You obviously have the power to make that happen.” “You could help me with that-” “Don’t waste your time.” The smart mouth snapped. “I’m not getting recruited into your Asshole Army no matter how much you sweet talk me.” The strategist chuckled. “I think you’re underestimating me by calling it ‘sweet talking.’ I could persuade the cross off a catholic school teacher.” “I’m sure you could, Judas.” The brunette cocked a brow. “Why don’t you go use those special skills of yours and win the million dollars instead of wasting your time trying to convince a cipher of a contestant to take your side?” “You’re not a cipher.” Sebastian argued. “What have I done so far? Nothing. I’m as interchangeable as it gets. I don’t even want to be here.” “Then why’re you still here?” “Oh, you didn’t see the latest book I’m reading?” Donna patted her hand on the novel resting on the counter beside her. “It’s The Quintessential Guide to Taking Down a Reality Program from the Inside.” “Everybody else might believe your bad attitude, but I know better than that. Do you think I just picked you out of random from our whole team? I knew you and I had some things in common and that, unlike the rest of the idiots we’re stuck working with, you seemed smart, sane, and like you could get even the most lovable person kicked off the show just because they said something you didn’t like. I like that.” Sebastian flashed her another one of his perfected charmer’s smiles, but Donna only narrowed her eyes in response. “The answer is still no.” She tossed the towel at him, grabbed her book, and stomped out of the kitchen. “''- She wore a beautiful off-the-shoulder number that accentuated her-''” “''- Fifty percent chance of rain on Thursday, though the sun should come out-''” “''- Of your closet! Literally every piece you have here is going in the trash. The ‘80s called, they want their style back!” Angel sighed as he flipped to the next channel on The Oscars’ television. He sat between an equally as bored Isaac and Allison on the couch in their lounge, Cara and Paul lying on the floor below them sharing a bag of potato chips. “Well, this is lame.” Isaac remarked. “Pretty much.” Angel changed the channel again, only to grunt in frustration. “Oh look, we’re back to the first channel again.” “Why don’t we shut it off if there’s nothing to watch?” Cara suggested. “It’ll conserve power.” “What’re we supposed to do without the TV on?” Isaac questioned. Cara gave him a confused glance. “We could just ''talk.” Isaac and Angel exchanged a look, their identical expressions saying that their teammate had gone mad. “What? Talking isn’t a bad thing!” “Cara, they don’t understand because they aren’t girls.” Allison explained. “If men don’t get it, then why isn’t Paul freaking out?” Cara gestured to the Boy Scout. Isaac snickered. “It’s ‘cause he’s not a real man. He never earned his merit badge for growing a pai-” “Don’t finish that sentence.” Paul glared up at his teammate. “Why, you gonna strangle me with a square knot?” “I wouldn’t use a square knot, I’d use – actually, I’m not even going to bother trying to explain.” The dark-haired teen took out his annoyance on a potato chip. “To answer your question, Cara, I’m not complaining because I hate this show.” He pointed to the television, where a girl in a miniskirt was belting out a ‘70s classic. “These singing contests are awful. They’re rigged to push people through based on their stories instead of their talent, and the hottest person always wins.” “Luckily this show’s pretty much the exact opposite, otherwise I’d be doomed.” Allison joked, leaning down to steal the bag of chips from between Paul and Cara. As she poured out a handful, Isaac and Angel muttered under their breath to each other. “Still trying to figure out that whole ‘just talking’ thing, boys?” “None of your business.” Isaac gave her an exaggerated sneer before whispering something to Angel. The pyromaniac cracked up at his roommate’s comment. “They’re giggling like third grade girls.” Cara observed. “Why don’t you share your secret with the class?” Allison put a hand on Angel’s shoulder, but the fire starter stayed mum. “Oh, it’s a private thing? Well, I’m sorry we don’t have the special bond that you two do. I mean, seriously, if anybody starts dating by the end of the show it’ll be you two. Forget Victor and Ophelia, or Irina and Paul-” “It’s not like that!” Paul interjected. “You keep telling yourself that.” The daredevil smirked in the Boy Scout’s direction. “Either way, Angel and Isaac have you beat.” “Ha. You’re funny.” Angel deadpanned. “Just because your best attempt at being friendly is not yelling at Avery for an hour doesn’t mean other people aren’t allowed to get along.” “I have my own definition of friendly.” Allison gave the pyromaniac a playful grin and then handed the bag of chips back to Cara. “But speaking about roommates, where’s Miss Manners?” “You mean Camille?” Cara frowned. “That’s actually a really good ques-” “Ugh, pathetic!” A new voice screeched from the kitchenette. Five heads turned to see Rachel Claire crawl out from a cupboard. She got to her feet and brushed off her dress, pausing the tape recorder in her hand. “You were spying on us!” Paul accused. “Duh. It’s my job.” Rachel Claire put a hand on her hip. “But you guys are so damn boring! Where’s all the drama?” “With Avery.” “The readers will start getting sick of Avery if I don’t get a new story soon. She’s the only member of your team who’s exciting anymore!” The reporter trudged across the room and opened the door. “I swear, you guys are being boring on purpose. You’re going to put me out of business if you keep it up!” She slammed the door behind her, rattling the bowls in the cabinets. The five Oscars shared looks of confusion, trying to ignore the sounds of Rachel Claire’s ranting drifting through the thin walls. “I screwed up.” “I think that’s pretty obvious.” “No, I mean I really screwed up. This whole thing is my fault.” “Yes, but you’ll get over it.” “Everybody’s going to hate me even more now, but it was an accident.” Avery slumped against her headboard. “They all kept pushing my buttons, and it all built up until I had to let it all out on the nearest person. Angel was right, Robert was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now I convinced him to quit the competition.” She scrubbed her hands down her face. “I feel like I accidentally kicked a puppy, and then the puppy decided to run away forever.” “Everybody makes mistakes.” Irina comforted. “Some are just a little worse than others.” “I don’t think this is a mistake that I can ever recover from. There’s still a target on my back, so I might as well just pack my bags now.” “It’s only been two days, Avery.” The blonde pointed out. “Give them some time to get over it.” In the short period since Robert had eliminated himself, Avery's guilt had caused her to melodramatically break down a total of twenty-seven times. Her teammates ignored her, and some were even glad that she was beating herself up, but Irina was there to help her through every incident. The drama queen wasn’t quite sure why the Russian had decided to befriend her, though she appreciated having her by her side. “This really shouldn’t be anything new. A lot of people hate me … probably more people than I can name.” Avery explained. “But these people actually matter. They’re supposed to be my route to a million dollars, but if I keep this up they’ll just be my roadblock.” “But this isn’t permanent. You can go around a roadblock. You just have to prove them wrong.” Irina instructed. “Do something amazing and win us a challenge.” “That’s what I’ve been doing all along! I’ve been trying to lead us to win, but nobody wants my help anymore!” The Jersey girl whined. “So wait until we do something you’re good at, then you can really show them.” “But who knows when that will be? We’re probably going to get another B.S. boating challenge and I’ll have no idea what to do. By the time we get to a challenge I actually like, they’ll already have voted me off.” The blonde put a reassuring hand on her teammate’s shoulder. “You’re tough, and I know you can stick it out until you find the right opportunity. But if you really want to show them that you’ve learned from your mistake, you could start by saying you’re sorry.” Avery clutched a hand to her chest in offense. “That’s kind of against my personality.” “Sometimes you have to make sacrifices if you want people to like you.” The model gave her a forced smile, and Avery arched a brow. “Irina, why are you helping me?” The bombshell’s fake grin softened into something much more genuine. “I have a lot more in common with you than any of the other girls here, and I think you’re very misunderstood. We’d be good for each other if we were friends.” “We are friends.” Avery corrected, her pouty lips curling into a smile. “We pretty girls have to stick together, don’t we?” They giggled in unison, giving each other a dainty high five. Confession Cam Avery: “When you’re as generally hated as I am, it’s rare that you actually enjoy being around someone. At first I thought it was weird that Irina was treating me like a sister and maybe she was using me for something. Now I’m just glad that I’m not alone in all this.” Her eyes narrowed and darted from side to side. “Nobody needs to know that though. I don’t want to look too vulnerable.” “''And Romeo told Juliet, ‘You haven’t seen anything yet, we’ll run away just you and I, our only limit is the sky …’''” Ophelia was perched on the eyesore of an armchair in Room 209, swaying back and forth as she sang. Victor sat on the bed in front of her, observing with curiosity. They had been discussing a movie when a particular word had caught Ophelia’s attention, causing her to break into a passionate song. When she came to what must have been an instrumental break, he spoke over the melody that she hummed. “Did you write that yourself?” Ophelia chuckled and shook her head. “Nope. My dad used to sing it all the time. I guess I just picked it up after a while.” “I like it.” Ophelia’s smile spread further across her face, pale pink staining her cheeks. “I thought you would.” “You thought right.” Victor replied. “How couldn’t I love Shakespeare references from a beautif-” “Hey, Victor?” The actor’s jaw snapped shut at the interruption. He whipped his head to the side to shoot a death glare at Wes, who was leaning out of the bathroom with a cellphone in his hand. “What do you want?” The drama king hissed. “I left a notepad on the shelf below the sink with some important stuff written on it.” Wes said, using his palm to cover the speaker on the phone. “Do you know where it is?” “I threw it away.” The musician’s eyes widened. “''You threw it away?” “I didn’t know you were such a copycat. Polly wants a cracker?” Victor rolled his eyes. “Yes, I threw it away. I had to make room for my shampoo, and it looked like junk, so I trashed it.” “Why would you do that?” “Why would ''you leave important things a couple feet away from the throne in which I do my business?” Ophelia laughed from her spot in the chair, but Wes stuck out his tongue in disgust. “Too much information, Victor.” “It taught you a lesson, didn’t it?” The actor triumphantly crossed his arms. “That notebook was filled with important reminders that I had to give to my mom!” Wes cried. “I put it in the bathroom so I wouldn’t forget where it was!” “Can your mommy problems wait? I’m kind of in the middle of a conversation.” Victor gestured to Ophelia, who was watching them intently, following their conversation back and forth with her eyes. “Actually, this can’t wait!” He held the cellphone out in front of him, pointing to the label on the side that read "Property of McLean Studios." “She’s on the line right now, and my phone time’s up in a couple minutes. If I can’t tell her everything on that list, she’ll probably forget to pay the water bill or skimp out on rent and get evicted again.” “ … Again?” “It’s happened more than a couple times.” “Well, that’s your problem, not mine. Go pick through the trash to find your notes. I’m busy.” Victor waved a dismissive hand at his roommate, and Wes shot him a scowl before retreating into the bathroom. When the door clicked shut, the Romeo turned back to Ophelia. “Where were we?” “Just talking.” Ophelia said, pulling her legs up onto the chair. “Oh, right.” Victor leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “About how you’re an amazing sin-” “I hope you’re happy!” If eyes could throw knives, Victor’s would have impaled Wes by now. The musician stomped out of the bathroom and glared at his roommate. “My own mother hung up on me!” “Forget about your stupid mom!” The actor screeched. “I don’t care about your train wreck of a family, I’m talking to Ophelia!” Wes gaped at his teammate’s words. When Victor turned to look at Ophelia, she was staring with wide eyes. He sighed. “Okay, fine. Making fun of your family was too far, but you have to learn when you’re not welcome.” “It’s … it’s fine.” Despite his words, the guitarist nervously rubbed his hand up and down his skinny arm and refused to make eye contact. “I think you’re welcome, Wes. Why don’t you sit with us?” Ophelia suggested, giving her teammate a sugary sweet smile. “I’m sure you have plenty to say.” Wes glanced from Ophelia to Victor. “Um, if you guys wouldn’t mind?” “Oh, no, we wouldn’t mind. Hey, you know what we could talk about while we’re on the subject of music?” Victor gave a sinister leer to his roommate. The musician leaned against the wall beside Ophelia and swallowed anxiously, the actor’s expression clearly broadcasting his desire for revenge. “That song you were writing the other night.” “Ooh, you’re writing a song?” Ophelia’s exclaimed. “What’s it about?” “Nothing special.” “Oh, don’t lie to her, Wes.” Victor smirked, looking over at Ophelia. “Don’t let him fool you. It’s about a girl who is certainly something special to him.” Ophelia’s face immediately lit up. “You never told me you had a crush! Is she somebody here?” The songwriter bit his lip. “Um, I don’t-” “Yes.” His roommate stated for him. Wes glared at Victor, who returned the expression with an evil grin. The songbird casually shrugged his skinny shoulders at Ophelia. “It’s no big deal. Everyone has feelings for someone else on these shows. It probably won’t work out anyway.” “Don’t say that!” The artist held up her hands. “My friend, I may not be a matchmaker, but I know that everybody deserves a chance at love, especially people as good as you are! I’ll help you enchant your muse, but first you have to give me her name.” A gentle rap on the door spared Wes from finishing the awkward conversation. Desperate to escape the hole that he’d been forced into, the guitarist nearly flew over to swing the door open. On the other side, Donna was waiting with a book under her arm. “Oh, hey there.” Wes gave her a grateful smile. “You don’t even know how glad I am to see you.” Donna raised an eyebrow. “I don’t hear that very often.” “You have great timing. I was saved by the bell … or, um, the knock.” “I’m glad I could be of assistance.” The petite pessimist leaned over to peer past the musician. “If Ophelia is in there causing your trouble, can you please tell her that I’m back?” “Donna!” Ophelia sprung from her chair and met her roommate at the door. She looked over her shoulder and gave Victor a finger wave. “Thanks for letting me hang out in here, Victor. I’ll see you tomorrow!” She turned to give Wes a wink. “I’ll help you find your muse soon.” “Oh, it’s fine. I’m sure you have way better things to worry about.” Wes’s attempt at discouragement seemed to have been unheard, as the blonde’s conspiratorial expression stayed put as she shut the door. As she and Donna walked to their room next door, Ophelia linked her arm through the smaller girl’s. “How were the dishes?” “The dishes were fine.” Donna shrugged her roommate’s arm away as she dug for her key in her pockets. “The company, however, wasn’t.” “Who were you stuck with?” The smart mouth smirked as she fit the key into the lock. “Sebasshole.” Ophelia guffawed at the insult, stumbling into the room and collapsing onto her bed. Donna sniggered lightly as she shut the door behind her, and Ophelia calmed her giggles enough to sit up and glance over at her. “Does he know you call him that?” “He’s really into that whole omnipresent, ‘I see all’ thing, so I’m sure he knows. He probably thinks it’s a compliment.” The brunette placed her book on the nightstand and sat on her own bed. “How are Wes and Victor?” “Excellent! Wes was a little annoyed about some family stuff, but after that he was nice as always. And Victor …” Ophelia sighed her teammate’s name and fell backwards onto the mattress, bursting into her incomplete song. “''We’ll run away just you and I, and I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine, we’ll go away and finally be free'' … and … um…” The artist pouted her lips when the lyrics escaped her memory. “''Nothing will matter except you and me.” Ophelia sat up to gape at Donna, who had just finished the verse on perfect pitch. “You know this song?” The smart aleck nodded. “My mom listens to that CD all the time.” “Your voice is so pretty! I never knew you had that in you!” The artist cooed. “Why aren’t you into music?” Donna just released a stale laugh. “Been there, done that, not going to try it again.” Ophelia furrowed her brow in confusion. “What do you mean?” “It’s a boring story. You won’t want to hear it.” The smart aleck shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Now a story that I ''do want to hear is where you learned that song.” Confession Cam Ophelia: “When I first met her, I thought Donna was sour and mean, but the more I get to know her the more I realize she’s just different. She’s not exactly very enthusiastic or friendly, but when you get to know her she’s a lot more than what she wants you to think she is. She makes us see her as a crab, but I think she’s more like an oyster with a pearl inside.” Victor: “Karma’s a bitch, Wes. If I’m flirting with a girl, you don’t butt in and screw it up. You mess with me, I’ll mess with you, and now Ophelia knows all about your song and probably won’t stop asking about it until you fess up.” The actor smirked. “Revenge is still sweet even if it’s on your friend.” Breakfast the next morning had been rather uneventful for a hotel that was full of easily angered young adults. Nobody was outwardly feuding yet, there was not a cloud in the sky to hide the sun, and the pancakes that Monique and Minerva had attempted to make were horrendously overcooked but still semi-edible if one wanted to risk losing their front teeth by biting into them. Remarkably, the competitors – yes, even Elena – were using their inside voices, and the normally noisy cafeteria was filled with only the sound of calm chatter when Avery put her plate down on The Oscars’ table. One of her pancakes slid off the dish and onto the floor, cracking the tile it landed on. “Everybody, I have something to say.” “When don’t you have something to say?” Allison retorted. “She’s being serious this time.” Irina explained. “Just let her talk.” “Thank you very much.” Avery gave her friend a nod. “I just want to admit that my actions towards Robert in the last challenge were inexcusable. There were just a lot of people treating me badly, which only added to the stress from the awful setting. I was already aggravated, and you guys snapping at me just overwhelmed me and consequentially provoked me to reach my breaking point. I’m sorry for what I did to Robert. He really didn’t deserve it, and I had no idea that he would take what I said so seriously and quit.” Though this seemed like the correct place to end her speech, the Jersey girl continued on in true drama queen fashion. “I’m also sorry for all of the stupid drama I’ve caused on our team. You guys have to understand that I just want the best for us and I hate to lose, especially if it seemed like we were winning the whole time. I’ll try to be a little nicer from now on, and hopefully we’ll get a few wins under our belt. To prove that I’m a team player and not just the selfish brat you think I am, I’m going to work as hard as I possibly can in the next challenge. We can beat The Emmys, with or without Robert.” The other Oscars waited to see if she was just taking another theatrical pause, but Avery sat down to signal to them that it was safe to comment. A few teammates exchanged doubtful looks or rolled their eyes, but the diva chose to ignore them and instead concentrated on sawing through her rock hard pancakes. Except for a few wails of pain when a player failed to pierce their pancake, breakfast continued without any more outbursts. Because it had already been a couple of days since they were sent out to sea, the contestants were anticipating a challenge to be introduced in the form of Chris bursting into the cafeteria in a crazy costume. That, however, was not how the message would be delivered today. “Hello? Anybody here?” All heads turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice calling from just outside the cafeteria. Somebody walked past the open doorway, though he backtracked when he realized that he’d found his destination. “Oh, there you guys are. Chris said you’d be in here.” “Who is that?” Camille attempted to mutter to Cara, though it came out much louder than she had hoped. The dark-haired stranger laughed. “I figured I’d get that. It’s hard to believe it’s been five whole years since I humiliated myself on international television.” “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Minerva launched out of her seat and scurried up to the man. “How can you not recognize him? It’s Trent!” As the other seventeen competitors murmured in apology, Minerva stared at Trent in awe. “What are you doing here?” “Chris asked me to come back and help out with the challenge.” Trent replied. “I wasn’t exactly cool with seeing people get tortured, but he explained the challenge to me and it’s not that bad … with the bonus that I’m not at any risk of dying since I won’t actually be competing in it.” “I wouldn’t doubt him. Chris could somehow make a cotton ball dangerous.” Risty commented. “Well, I think this one should be pretty tame.” Trent waved a beckoning hand. “Follow me!” Trent led the group towards the front of the film set, where a dark blue, windowless building stood near the golden entrance gates. As the eighteen contestants filed into the building, they found themselves in a spacious auditorium. The room was much larger than the talk show set that had been used for the first challenge, with high ceilings and a tiered seating arrangement. The players had entered at the far back of the audience, and as they made their way down the aisle more and more dim blue lights turned on to illuminate their path. In the front of the room was a massive stage, a single spotlight shining on a microphone stand at its center. The edges of the stage had small but bright lights set into them, and rounded pieces on each side jutted into the audience. A large video screen framed with lights was set against the back wall, with two doors below it that probably led to a backstage area. Immediately in front of the stage was a rickety table and four folding chairs, a strange contrast to the fine decor throughout the rest of the room. “Ugh, I know what this is!” Paul groaned. “It’s one of those singing contests!” “That’s right, dorkus!” The spotlight shifted to Chris, who stepped onto the stage through one of the back doors. “Welcome to your fifth challenge: Sing Your Heart Out! Because of the success of shows like high school drama Joy and the shark-jumping revamp of American Icon, we decided that we couldn’t let the singing aspect die with Total Drama World Tour and brought it back!” When Chris walked towards the center of the stage, Trent had the contestants sit in the first and second row of the audience. “This challenge is exactly what its title sounds like: a glorified karaoke contest. As great as the new budget has been, we weren’t going to splurge and get the rights to popular songs, so you’re stuck singing Total Drama World Tour classics. “The competition will last three rounds. In the first, your entire team has to sing a group number, which you have to participate even if your voice sounds like the cries of a beached whale. In round two, each team will choose its three best singers to go head to head with one of the opposing team’s singers in a duet. The final round will be solos to let the same chosen six show their stuff. I know that some of the words that the World Tour contestants thought up on the spot are a bit crappy, so the performers are free to completely change around the lyrics in any song. We also have a local garage band here to help you help you change the arrangement of the song – just keep it vaguely recognizable, ‘kay? In the end, the judges will decide whose performance was the best in each round. Whichever team has the most victories is the winner! “To keep this thing from turning into a lame talent show, I’ve stocked your judging panel with a bunch of psychos!” The host smirked as a second spotlight lit up in front of the stage, where four people were crammed shoulder to shoulder behind the folding table. “This set didn’t come with a judging table, so we just grabbed the cheapest one from Wally-Mart for them. Can’t blow the budget on practical things when we can have celebrity cameos, now can we? You guys probably already guessed that your first judge is going to be Total Drama alumnus Trent.” The green-eyed guitarist looked over his shoulder to wave at the contestants. “Next to him is the lovable blonde pop sensation with questionable taste in men and even more questionable amount of common sense, Miss Whitney Steers!” The bottle blonde singer tilted her head in confusion. “I thought y’all said we were going to a Madame Gogo concert?” “This is a Madame Gogo concert.” Chris lied. “Ohhhh, okay then!” Whitney nodded excitedly, singing out, “''I need all of your cheers, your cheers, your cheers!” “How are you a millionaire?” Trent shook his head in disappointment from beside the pop princess. “Our next judge is a former VJ, DJ, and rap artist … among some other less legal careers. It’s our very own Chef Hatchet!” Chef gave the camera an eerie gap-toothed grin. “And beside him we have the comedy queen herself, Helen D’Angelo!” “Why is ''she here?” Chef asked. Helen shrugged. “Don’t ask me.” She let out her signature nasally laugh, and Chef covered his ears. “Yeah, I don’t really know where she came from either.” Chris agreed. “I’ll give your teams a few minutes to find your best singers. Good luck, and please don’t deafen me with your voices. These ears aren’t insured yet.” “This song is ridiculous. It’s definitely not something worth wasting my musical prowess on.” “Stop talking, Gabe.” “I’m not going to sing this cheap jingle on television if I’m not being paid for it.” “Gabe, you can’t even sing.” “You don’t know that!” The bushy haired Emmy crossed his arms. “I have the voice of a god!” “You just sang when we were choosing our representatives, dumbass.” Elena reminded her alliance-mate. “It sounded more like a gagging goose than a god. Long story short: you suck.” Gabe turned up his nose. “I was just saving my voice for when it counts.” “Oh, just like you’re saving your intelligence for when it counts?” The socialite snapped. The wealthy boy’s jaw dropped. “I don’t know who you’re trying to kid because you’re even dumber than I am. At least I have a bad attitude because I’m better than everyone else. You think you’re high and mighty, but you’re really just a dumb bi-” “Okay, it’s rehearsal time, shut up.” Risty stepped in between her feuding teammates. “Just chill, will you?” Gabe and Elena’s didn’t break their glaring contest but remained silent. Monique handed them each a paper with a part of “Eine Kleine” highlighted on it. “These are your lines. Sing them on your cue and don’t screw up.” Gabe scoffed at his sheet. “Why do I only have one line?!” “Most of us do.” Monique stated. The spoiled jerk held the paper in front of the designer’s face and pointed at the highlighted line. “''This'' is my entire line? ‘Shhhh?’ That’s not even a word!” “I hate to say it, but Elena was right.” The trendsetter pushed his page aside. “You really can’t sing.” “Ha-ha.” Elena stuck her tongue out at Gabe, who flipped her the bird. Monique pressed play on the CD player and a jaunty Mozart melody began to play. “Keep it down so I can win the loot.” Sebastian sang over the music. “Try, I will, but I still got to fart – no, toot!” Minerva followed. There was a pause as the music continued and Monique abruptly stopped the CD, all eyes turning to Gabe. “What?” He held up his hands in innocence. “That was your cue, idiot!” Elena elbowed him in the arm. “Oh, um.” Gabe cleared his throat. “Sorry, I was still warming up my vocal chords.” Monique rolled her eyes and restarted the CD. “Let’s just try this again.” “Keep it down so I can win the loot.” “Try, I will, but I still got to fart – no, toot!” Gabe sucked a deep breath in and, with as much dramatics as he could possibly muster, released his, “Shhhhhhhhhh!” “GABE!” Monique stopped the music again. “I was making sure I had enough air so I didn’t go flat!” “Why was it so loud?” “I was projecting my voice! You don’t understand theater!” Elena grumbled and pushed back her hair. “Do we have to give him a line?” “The paper actually says ‘All contestants – even the tone deaf ones – must sing unless they are pardoned for an excusable circumstance.'” “I think his stupidity is an excusable circumstance!” The socialite stomped her foot. “He’s bringing us down!” As Elena fumed, Victor leaned over and pointed at Gabe’s paper. “You see this line here? That’s Minerva’s. And this one word after it? That’s your part. That’d be why it’s highlighted, are you following me?” Gabe scowled. “I’m not an idiot.” “Mm-hmm, you just keep telling yourself that.” Victor gestured towards Minerva. “See the girl with the big red hair over there? That’s Minerva, in case you didn’t know. The second she’s done saying ‘toot,’ you say, ‘Shhhh.’ You can’t hold it for more than about a second, and you have to do it right away, got it? And if you don’t get it right, I will personally push you off the stage for ruining my performance.” “You wouldn’t dare.” Gabe challenged. “He totally would.” Wes warned. “Trust me.” “Take it from the top!” Victor ordered, and the music started again. “Keep it down so I can win the loot.” “Try, I will, but I still got to fart – no, toot!” “Shhhh!” This time, the line was perfectly timed and brief. Monique continued the song with a pleased smile. “Toot on, but you’re still out of luck. You suck the lemon chuck.” “Ex''cuse'' me?!” Elena snarled. “You think you’re so sly, but I can tell that was directed at me!” “ELENA!” “If that’s the best you’ve got, then you’d better go get some ointment because I’m going to burn you so bad-” “It’s the lyrics, Elena!” Monique shook her paper at her. “Look, it’s written on the page right in front of you! It’s what the damn song says!” Elena examined the paper. “Oh. Carry on then.” Confession Cam Monique: The New Yorker sighed. “I’m surrounded by idiots. Sure, I can’t even make pancakes without burning them, but that doesn’t make me even half as pathetic as some of my teammates are. If we lose this challenge, I don’t even know if I’ll vote out Gabe or Elena. Can’t we just make it a double elimination and get rid of them both?” When Avery Dellcourte makes a promise, she keeps it. So when she told her team that she would work hard to assure their win in the challenge, she definitely was not going to let them down. Fortunately, this challenge was right up her alley, as she had plenty of experience with singing after taking over her elementary school choir. She immediately volunteered to be one of The Oscars’ singers for the duets and solo, but she knew that this would not be enough – she had to go above and beyond. There were a total of eight Oscars left in the competition, and they had drawn “Come Fly With Us” for the group round, which had a huge cast. Avery was singing for Courtney, Harold, Ezekiel, and Izzy. All four parts had solos, and some even sang together. It was an impossible feat, but she was willing to take the challenge to show her teammates that she had meant everything she said in her apology. The rest of the team was glad to watch her make a fool of herself to prove it. “My singing voice sounds like a cross between a constipated dog and a dying cat.” Isaac painted a heinous mental picture for his teammates, who had gathered backstage. “I really think I can only handle a speaking part.” “You’re playing Duncan and Chef.” Irina said. “You literally only have to sing ‘this sucks’ at the end.” “I really should be singing ‘''I'' suck,’ because I’m beyond awful.” “I’m a bad singer too.” Camille admitted. “If you mess up, everybody with think it’s cute.” Irina pointed out. “You’re so innocent that I think even Chef will let a mistake slide. It’s hard to dislike you.” “Aw, thank you, but I really don’t think he’ll be able to ignore my voice.” Camille grimaced. “You know, you guys are fussing over little things when we have a much bigger problem.” Allison spoke up. “I think we have to deal with the solos and duets before we try to figure out the group song.” “You don’t think you’ll do a good job?” Paul questioned. “I think I’ll do fine, but that might not be good enough when you compare it to what The Emmys can do. For our team, we have me singing ‘Sisters,’ Angel on ‘Her Real Name Isn’t Blaineley,’ and Avery with ‘I’m Sorry.’ Even though I hate her, we all know Avery probably has the best voice and drew the best song out of the three of us, but Angel and I are just decent singers and landed crappy songs. I’m going to see if I can work with the band and change up ‘Sisters,’ but even with that I’m not going to be amazing.” “She kind of has a point.” Angel said. “I have a pretty good voice, but I’ve never done anything like this, and ‘Her Real Name Isn’t Blaineley’ is kind of a song that’s doomed for failure.” “And then we have to consider what The Emmys have.” Allison continued. “They've got Wes, the token musician, and we all heard him perform for Chris in the second challenge – he’s a dang songbird! Victor’s a professional actor who’s probably been starring in musicals since he could walk, and Ophelia has the same thing going for her that Camille does. Even if she screwed up, the judges probably wouldn’t mind because she’s adorable.” “So what if they have slightly better singers? You guys can still beat them.” Paul encouraged. “Okay, even if they don’t turn out to have much more skill than we do, think about which World Tour songs are left for the solo round. The only ones I can think of are ‘Boyfriend Kisser,’ ‘Paris in the Springtime,’ and ‘Oh My Izzy.’ You know if Wes gets ‘Paris’ or ‘Oh Izzy’ he’ll go up there and croon it with his guitar. It would be romantic, it would be fabulous, Whitney Steers would probably melt, and the other judges would love it. There’s no way we can beat that.” “We don’t know that he has one of those songs, though.” Cara pointed out. “We still have a chance!” “That’d be where I'' come in and let all your hopes down.” Rachel Claire popped out from behind a vanity, her trusty tape recorder in hand. “Unfortunately for you, Allison was on the right track. Wes has ‘Oh My Izzy’ and he’s already fooling around with his guitar.” “Why’re you telling us this?” Irina asked, ignoring Allison’s ‘told you so’ expression. “I’m just stirring up the drama. You should appreciate my help.” The reporter said, sinking back behind the vanity. “Just pretend I’m not here and go on with your conversation.” “You know, there ''is a way we could definitely beat them.” Isaac mentioned once Rachel Claire was hidden again. When his teammates all glanced at him, a lopsided smirk crawled across his face. “Cheat.” A collective gasp ran through the team. “We can’t do that!” Cara cried. “It’s wrong!” “Hey, I’m not saying we’re gonna kill somebody.” The slacker defended his suggestion. “We’ve just got to … temporarily hinder them in a completely nonviolent way.” Cara bit her lower lip with uncertainty. “Well, I guess when you put it that way …” “But how could we cheat?” Camille questioned. “We don’t have a lot of time, so we need to find something that can make someone lose their voice instantly.” The troublemaker explained. “Any ideas?” The Oscars were silent. After a few minutes, Angel snapped his fingers. “Of course!” The fire starter exclaimed. “I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this, but mi mamá is known around my hometown for making the best and hottest meals around. She’s won cook-offs because she uses her secret sauce in all of her recipes. Even I'' don’t know what’s in it, but she won the award for hottest dish in one competition because the judges actually got sore throats because from the little bit of secret sauce she put in her ''cuajitos en salsa. Back when she was still figuring out the recipe, our neighbor lost his voice from a batch of cuajitos with too much sauce in it!” “Great, but it won’t be much help if you don’t know how to make it.” Avery stated. Angel grinned. “No, but it can help us if I just happened to have put a bottle in my luggage in case we had to do a cooking challenge!” “What are you waiting for, man?” Isaac hopped to his feet. “You and I can go back to The Hotel and get it. While everyone else practices, we can think of a plan to make this work.” As the two young men rushed off, Cara’s fingers fidgeted with the ends of her shirt. “This doesn’t feel wrong to any of you?” “Sometimes good people do bad things.” Camille murmured from her spot beside her. Cara gave her roommate a wide-eyed look of confusion, though Camille just opened her purse and pulled out a tube of lipstick. Cara tried to sneak a peek into the bag, but it was snapped closed before she could even begin to see what was inside. “I loved Paris in the springtime, je t’aime Paris in the fall! She was the girl I loved in the summer-” “Wait, ‘she?’ I thought Paris was a city?” Victor turned to Ophelia, making a gesture to the band to cut them off. “Yes, Paris is a city, but this Paris is a person.” Ophelia puckered her lips in a mix of puzzlement and annoyance. “Who is this Paris?” “Paris is a classmate of mine … and my ex-girlfriend.” The artist’s doe eyes narrowed and her lips clenched in a tight line, her expression a perfect image of jealousy. “Was this Paris pretty?” “She was very pretty.” The actor replied, and Ophelia’s eyes gained a glossy sheen as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. “But Paris was also very mean. I took her to homecoming after we were dating for a couple of months and I found her making out in the janitor’s closet with another guy.” “Why would you date her then?” “I didn’t know she'd do something like that to me.” “Oh.” The blonde looked anywhere but at her teammate, trying to hide that she was still upset. “I used to think that Paris was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in real life …” Victor placed a gentle hand on her arm. “But that was before I met you. You’re much prettier than she ever was, and you have a sparkling personality to match. She was just a stupid girl, but you’re so much better than she was.” Ophelia finally met his eye, her green eyes huge. “Then why are you singing about Paris and not me?” Victor laughed. “Is that why you’re so upset?” The pale-haired girl nodded. “I’m singing a song about Paris tearing my heart apart, not about how much I like her.” “… Really?” “Yes, really.” The Romeo smiled at the oddball. “Maybe if you listened to the lyrics, you’d know that you don’t have to worry. Did you think I was singing a love song?” Ophelia nodded, her envious expression replaced with her much more natural excited one. “I’m just so glad you’re not.” “Here, why don’t you listen to the words this time?” Victor had the band start the song again and gave Ophelia a smile before he began to sing. Confession Cam Ophelia: “Victor had me worried for a minute, but I’m just relieved he’s not singing to some girl. I was so afraid that I was reading everything wrong and he had a girlfriend or something, but it was just a misunderstanding. I’m going to make the best out of an awkward situation, since now I can keep Paris in mind when I’m singing ‘Boyfriend Kisser!’” The painter paused, her pale face flushing pink. “Um, not that Victor’s my boyfriend or anything. He’s just a guy that I like … really like … a lot.” “Paul, you’re a good person, right?” The Boy Scout turned to look at Cara, who sat beside him on the edge of the stage. Angel and Isaac were still at The Hotel formulating their master plan, Allison, Avery, and Irina had gone off to work with the band, and the team had somehow misplaced Camille, so Paul and Cara had been left waiting for their teammates to regroup. Neither was pleased that they were unable to be of more assistance in the challenge, but musical talent wasn’t exactly something that they could find hidden in a box backstage, so they had to settle for being The Oscars’ support system. “I like to think I’m a good person.” Paul agreed. “Are you okay with Isaac cheating?” Cara asked. Paul opened his mouth to give her an automatic response, but he shut it before he could get a word out, his face curling into a pondering expression. “Honestly, I’m not okay with it, but I know that anything I say won’t stop him. Isaac might seem like a pretty terrible person, but he’s got charisma, so our teammates listen to him even though they probably shouldn’t.” “He’s … he’s not a terrible person.” “Not to you, he isn’t.” The all-American boy countered. “But think about the way he treats me or Avery, or how he acts like Irina’s just a piece of meat. Isaac’s a total jerk, even if he fakes being a nice guy to you.” “He’s not faking it.” The tree hugger denied. “What good would that do him?” “We’re in the middle of an elimination game, so you have to think that everybody has a strategy and something up their sleeve. He probably just wants you on his side because he’s been on the bottom so many times.” “Or maybe he just genuinely likes me.” “Or he could just be flirting with you. If there’s one thing Isaac’s shown us from day one, it’s that he’s a complete horn dog.” “I think he wants to be my friend.” “And I'' think he probably just wants to get in your pants.” Before Cara could protest any further, Paul held up his hand. “Look, I’m not saying he’s not a bad guy with a heart of gold. For all I know, he is. I’m just telling you to be cautious because he might not be the knight in shining armor that you think he is.” “We're baaaaaaaack!” The door at the back of the audience slammed open, and Isaac and Angel entered the room with a tray of sandwiches. Isaac banged on the side of the tray to get the attention of the contestants that were backstage. “Why don’t you all take a break and eat some lunch? Angel and I were gracious enough to make it!” Cara twirled the ends of her hair, her lips pressed tightly together. “I … I guess I’ll keep what you said in mind.” “I hope I could help you out. You’re too nice to be hurt by someone like him.” Paul got to his feet and offered her a hand. The environmentalist gladly accepted the help, and they walked down the steps and into the audience. The other contestants herded out from backstage, gathering around the tray of sandwiches that Isaac and Angel had placed on the judging table. When the Boy Scout and nature lover approached the table, Isaac indicated a sandwich that was set aside from the rest. “I know you’re a vegetarian, so I made this one without meat for you.” Cara gave him a shy smile. “Thank you.” She wiggled her sandwich teasingly in front of Paul as she located Camille in the audience. “Told you so.” “Hang on.” The Boy Scout subtly gestured towards the table, where Wes stepped to the front of the group. “I have a bad feeling about this.” When Wes reached to pick up a sandwich, Isaac snatched it from his hand. “Whoa, dude, not that one! I was saving that one for myself!” He picked up another sandwich and held it out to the lanky songbird. “Take this one.” Wes narrowed his eyes at the offering. “Did you spit on this one or something?” “It’s just a sandwich, Stretch. It’s probably more afraid of you than you are of it.” Angel teased. “Do we look like the kind of guys to sabotage your food?” Wes looked between Angel and Isaac a few times before shrugging his shoulders. “I guess not. Sorry about that.” “Not a problem.” Isaac shot him a finger gun. “Enjoy it.” When the musician headed over to sit with his team, Isaac and Angel exchanged a fist bump, and Paul raised an eyebrow at Cara. Cara collapsed into the seat beside Camille, her gaze following Wes's every move. As lunch continued, Cara was not the only one who was keeping an inconspicuous eye on Wes and his sabotaged sandwich. However, the musician had been distracted by a conversation with Risty, and the sandwich rested uneaten on his denim-covered leg. Whenever an Emmy noticed an Oscar staring, they tried to act casually, though the entire team was getting anxious to see if Isaac and Angel’s plan would be a success. When the guitarist finally brought the sandwich to his mouth, all eight of the Oscars’ stares were locked onto him. Wes took a bite and chewed, and his competition was left on the edges of their seats. “Huh. This is really good.” Wes lifted the top bun of the sandwich. “Where’d you guys get the-” It only took a moment for the spice to kick in and cut him off midsentence. The guitarist’s face turned bright crimson and his eyes began to water, the other Emmys circling around him in distress. Eventually, Wes opened his mouth to let out an ear-splitting scream. He burst from his chair, his hands shooting up to cover his mouth as he frantically ran around to search for water. This movement sent the hot sauce-laced sandwich flying straight towards The Oscars. Most of the team ducked to dodge the rogue sandwich, but it ended up hitting Camille square in the face. The aristocrat let out a squeal when the hot sauce got into her eyes and joined Wes in the hysterical hunt for water. The auditorium was filled with pure chaos, some of The Emmys screaming at The Oscars while other players chased after Wes and Camille to attempt to help them. In the middle of it all, Cara stared with wide brown eyes as Isaac gave Angel a congratulatory high five. '''Confession Cam' Cara: “I don’t even want to think about it, but what if Paul’s right? Maybe Isaac’s not a Duncan, maybe he’s more of a … an Alejandro.” The Emmys were assembled in front of Chef Hatchet’s medical trailer, anxiously waiting to find out what had happened to Wes. Their gangly teammate had been inside for ten minutes now, but they couldn’t hear anything that was going on through the trailer's thin metal walls. “Do you think he’ll be okay?” Minerva wondered. “He’d better be.” Risty replied. “The Oscars must’ve put something in his food, so if he’s hurt I think we should throw a lawsuit at them.” “My family has plenty lawyers to choose from.” Gabe pitched in. “He’ll be fine.” Victor waved his hand dismissively. “Wes would do anything to help the team, so there’s no way he’ll let something like this set him back.” As if on cue, the trailer door opened and Wes stepped outside. He looked good as new, his face back to its usual shade, though his expression was a distressing mix of worry and discomfort. “Well?” Monique asked. Wes opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. “What was that?” Sebastian asked. “I couldn’t hear you.” Wes’s jaw fell open and closed, but again there was only silence. “What’s going on?!” Victor yelped. Behind Wes, Chef Hatchet stepped out of the trailer with a solemn look on his face. “I don’t know what the hell they put in that sandwich, but they really screwed up his throat.” Chef explicated. “The boy ain’t gon’ be able to talk for at least twenty-four hours, maybe more.” The Emmys swarmed around Chef, throwing panicked exclamations at him. “We only have an hour left before the challenge!” Monique yelled. “How’re we supposed to find a replacement in time?” “Oh, I know!” Ophelia raised her hand. “Replacin’ him’s not my problem.” Chef answered the designer, ignoring Ophelia’s squirming. “I might be able to pull some strings and get you an extra hour to practice, but that’s all.” “Can’t The Oscars get disqualified for this?!” Elena shrieked. “They cheated!” “Guys, over here!” Ophelia waved her arms over her head. “I have an idea!” “Elena’s right, they should lose the challenge automatically!” For once, Minerva shared an opinion with the socialite. Ophelia cupped her hands around her mouth to achieve maximum volume. “Guys! I know what to do!” Her teammates turned to look at the eccentric artist. “Donna can do it!” The Emmys backed away from to reveal Donna sitting on the ground against the side of the trailer, attempting to avoid the drama. She stared wide-eyed up at Ophelia. “''Me?” “I heard her sing last night and she’s really good!” Ophelia preached to her teammates. “She won’t admit it, but she probably sings just as well as Wes does … or, um, did. Wes can guide her through what he had planned for all the songs, and I’m sure the judges would like the unexpected underdog thing. We could still have a fighting chance at not sending someone home!” Risty looked down at Donna. “Would you be willing to do that?” “I’m really not good with situations like this.” The smart aleck confessed. “Don’t let her trick you. She’s a natural at singing.” Ophelia argued, crouching down to speak to her roommate. “You sing better than I do, and the judges won’t care that you’re not a people person. It’s a singing competition, not a popularity contest, and I think you can do it. And this is my only idea, so if you don’t do it we don’t have a Plan C.” “Will you do it? ''Please?” Minerva begged. Donna’s eyes darted between the nine expectant faces staring down at her. Eventually, she sighed. “Okay.” “Well, this is an unexpected turn of events.” The camera switched over to Chris, who was standing on the stage. “Now, before I forget, it’s product placement time! Today’s background band is Optimal Beta, who are based right here in Major City!” The host held up a CD case. “You can buy their music online or on their website at www dot … actually, you know what, just look them up.” He tossed the CD over his shoulder, the case clattering on the wooden stage. “Will Donna be able to help her team earn the victory, or will The Oscars’ cheating pay off? Will Avery finally be able to prove herself to her teammates? Will Paul’s assumptions about Isaac be correct? Hopefully we can find out when we return to Total … Drama … Island: For Your Entertainment!” <<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>>